Exercise is better than fretting.

Caught in an elevator. Stuck. The doors won’t open. Happened yesterday. My true love and I. Alone. In a tiny cramped space. Big enough for 4 people at the most. I’m calm, cool and collected. Maybe wouldn’t have been 20 or 30 years ago. I’m the mellow Jim now. My true love was rattled. Nervous. Uptight. Yes, panicky. Meanwhile, I can fathom being there for several hours. With my true love. Really, not such a bad thought. We’d be able to console each other. Though I’d probably do most of the consoling. Relax, I tell her. We’ll get out. Eventually. But she’s in a hurry. Wants to go down to City Hall. To get a new identity card. One is required. Every 5 years. For travel in the European Union. I tell her don’t worry. Be happy. I’m ready to sing the Bobby McFerrin refrain/ditty about not worrying. Besides, she can get the identity card tomorrow. Or next week, for that matter. Let’s enjoy our togetherness. Anyway, we sound an alarm. A little bell. That one can hardly hear tinkle. My true love yells for help. Soon we hear from the lady living on the floor above. She recruits her husband. He tells us to stick our hand in a little crevice. And to feel for a latch or lever. Pull it. We try, and fail. Try again, and fail. Finally, I figure it out. I pull up, instead of down or sideways. Presto, the door opens. My true love vows to never ride the elevator again. To take the stairs. That may be a blessing in disguise. She’s trying to lose weight. I tell her exercise is better than fretting. It burns far more calories. –Jim Broede